


Afterword

by DracoMaleficium



Series: The Thing About Fire [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consensual Underage Sex, Established Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-05
Updated: 2015-08-05
Packaged: 2018-04-13 04:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4507143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoMaleficium/pseuds/DracoMaleficium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Zuko's coronation day, and there is one more thing he wants to do before it's over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Afterword

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mizuzoku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizuzoku/gifts).



> Dedicated to the lovely Rabby because I promised her a piece of post-"The Thing About Fire" smut way too long ago. Sorry it took so long! Also in celebration of this year's Zukka Week, even though I didn't manage to finish it in time for the first "freeform" day, welp.
> 
> This fic is heavy with references to "The Thing About Fire," with all that that implies (most of all, past sexual trauma and getting over it). I'd recommend you read that one before diving into this.

The sky is on fire, which, given the events of the past year, should be a cause for worry.

But not this time. This time, Sokka watches the brilliant streaks of light shoot up and crack into a splash of bright joyful color, one by one until there is hardly a patch of black left in the crowded sky, and he hoots and cheers with everyone else because it looks like the Fire Nation is trying to banish years and years of darkness from its very core and he knows, in his heart, that this is a promise, and that this is exactly what Zuko is going to do.

The tireless fireworks bang and sizzle out onto their heads in a blinding shower of sparks. Down below, the party has long since spilled out onto the streets and courtyards and gardens, and the Caldera blazes with lights like it's trying to prove a point. If Sokka concentrates he can hear shreds of music struggling up to them from the streets, bits of spontaneous, exuberant melodies that clash with the more stately ones played by the band in the palace proper. Not that it matters much. The bangs from the fireworks and the crowd's own noise render the music obsolete. 

Sokka stands on the terrace and watches the fireworks for a moment longer, and smiles when Suki and Lien clink their glasses together next to him. 

“Well,” Lien says loud enough to carry over the noise, “I suppose this is nice enough.”

Suki laughs, a free, pearly sound that tugs Sokka's mouth into a grin. “You're impossible to please.”

Lien's response is buried in the bang-crack-sizzle of the next round of fireworks, and perhaps, Sokka thinks, that is for the best. He takes a long sip of his wine – it's sparkling and sweet and delicious and goes straight to his head like nobody's business – and watches imprints of light dance and skip in his glass. 

It's beautiful. The lights, the party, the haze hanging over the capital that night and oozing out over the waters around the island – all of it, beautiful, and Sokka feels secure enough in their victory now that he can admit it. 

Watching your secret boyfriend be crowned supreme ruler of a country does wonders to your perception of said country, as it happens. Or maybe it's just the wine.

Sokka has some more, then grins at Suki and Lien and inches back into the crowd within the palace, negotiating his way over and across the grand, twinkling banquet hall to where he knows the rest of his friends are. It's easy to tell. Aang's laughter booms almost loud enough to rival the fireworks outside, not to mention the stark Water Tribe blues standing out in a sea of mostly red and brown with a few notes of green. 

“Sokka!” Katara calls to him, waving him over. “There you are. Hurry up and get over here, I need you to tell Toph I'm not being motherly.”

“Oh man, not again,” Sokka whines, politely pushing past Fire Nation bigwigs who try to pretend they don't notice him. “What's all this? Can't you two go an evening without duking it out?”

“I was only saying that perhaps it's not appropriate for The Duke to have any of the stronger drinks!” Katara insists. 

“Which is not motherly at _alllllll_ ,” Toph drawls. She then elbows Sokka and uses his surprise to snatch his glass from him, and proceeds to take a long sip, staring challengingly in Katara's general direction.

“Oh for goodness's sake,” Katara huffs. “Fine, do what you want. But don't blame me tomorrow when you wake up and don't know what day it is.”

“We've just fought and won a war,” Aang points out gently, his big wide smile warning the rest of the world that he's ready to get out there and spread Avatarish peace and harmony right the fuck _now_ if it kills him. “I think we've earned a night of silliness, Katara.”

She looks at him with wide eyes that spell betrayal and turns imploringly to Dad. Sokka does too, wondering idly how the scene will develop. 

Dad doesn't disappoint.

“I agree with Aang,” he says easily, taking Sokka's glass from Toph and earning himself a laugh. “You kids deserve to be treated like any other warrior tonight. Just don't overdo it or Zuko won't be too happy.”

Ah, and speaking of. “Where is he?” Sokka asks, rocking on the balls of his feet and trying to look and sound casual. “Still talking to General Big Nose or any of those other boring old farts?”

Dad looks at him with amusement that seems a bit too pointed, and, as a matter of fact, so do the others. He ignores all of them. He's suspected for a while that the others know about him and Zuko, and has yet to decide what to do about it, but the idea that _Dad_ might suspect anything is enough to send Sokka's mind spinning in panicked circles. 

He doesn't even know why. It's not like Dad's likely to react badly, or anything. It just... does. 

Must be the general... Dad-ness. 

“Actually he was talking to two scary old ladies last time I saw him,” Teo puts in, saving Sokka from a blush that would have truly been one for the ages. “I think he might appreciate a rescue.”

“Let's rescue Sifu Hotman then!” Aang promptly decides, and the war cry is taken up with gusto by everyone in their little huddle, including Katara, who laughs as her eyes clear. She glances to Sokka then and they share one of those rare moments of perfect understanding, amusement and love and unguarded happiness sparking between them in equal amounts.

They're all here. They're all fine. They all made it. 

Even though, Sokka thinks with savage pain shooting up his chest, some of them made it in better shape than others. 

He has to check up on Zuko.

They find him, eventually, back at the long table, sitting down in a chair in a circle of serious-looking men and women and nodding away with a concentrated expression while an energetic diplomat – a skinny, wizened old man with long grey hair and a beard so thick with pomade it looks more resilient than the man's own back – swipes his hands left, right and center and gets redder and redder in the face the more he talks. Sokka's heart skips immediately when he spies Zuko, and then sinks just as fast when he notices the tall shape of Mai standing silent guard behind Zuko's chair and sweeping her unimpressed eyes over the assembly. She looks bored because it's Mai and of course she does, but also – protective, like she's expecting danger to strike from any side, and maybe she has good reasons for that. 

Sokka wants to kick himself for letting himself forget, even for a moment. Yeah, they've all earned a night of carelessness, but no one can deny that their work is only just beginning. And though the coronation afterparty is as brilliant and pleasant as can be, Sokka isn't stupid. He knows Zuko won't be a popular ruler with his own people for a while yet, no matter how loudly they cheer for him tonight.

He shouldn't have let himself be lured away so far from his side. He should have insisted... 

“Oh no,” Katara mutters next to him, “he looks just about ready to keel over.”

Sokka takes a closer look at his boyfriend and has to agree. It's true. Zuko is leaning forward a little, not quite doubling over but close enough, and his left hand is suspiciously pressing into his middle. Strands of hair are escaping from the severe topknot, and though the Fire Lord's crown sitting in it still reflects light with pride and majesty, the face underneath looks just a little too set, a little too white, a little too...

Tired.

And if that isn't enough to break Sokka's heart all over again into tiny little pieces, the way Zuko smiles at him when their eyes meet across the room does the trick. Boom. Like the fireworks outside, gone, shattered, bye-bye Sokka-heart, gone to rest at the feet of a cranky firebender whose smile looks _just so_ and whose startling eyes glitter so beautifully when they land on him, like Sokka is the most interesting thing in the room by far, and there's no way in the world Sokka ever stood a chance against that.

And now he's so stupidly in love with the bastard he hurts with it all over, and cannot even begin to fight it when the warm, warm feeling bullies his mouth into a grin. And if anyone notices? Fuck them. He's just helped end a war, he survived a series of flaming airship crashes, he's in love with a man who's only escaped death by a frighteningly narrow margin only to be crowned head of state a few days later, and suddenly he is swept away with the wonderful, wonderful feeling of not giving a single solitary fuck.

He keeps the grin on as he strides over to the table with the rest of the group, and his poor vulnerable heart does a little jolt when Zuko does the same, tired golden eyes never leaving his. 

Yeah, Sokka is fucked.

“There you are,” Aang proclaims happily, interrupting the excitable politician mid-word as he pushes through the circle of adults to open up the way to Zuko. “Oh, uh, hi Mai! Have you tried these sugar fire flakes? They're delicious.”

Mai fixes her scary dark gaze on Aang and says nothing. She rests her hand on the back of Zuko's chair protectively and Sokka tries not to feel jealous. He thinks she probably still loves Zuko, too, and remembers the deadly glint of a knife and the touch of the leather hilt etching into the skin of his hand.

He doesn't want to think about that day tonight, but with her hovering so close it's impossible not to.

“Minister Wei was just telling me about the coal mines,” Zuko explains with a smile, and Sokka's eyes fly back to him immediately. “There are things that I... I had no idea were even happening. There is so much to be done.”

“I'm sure that's all very important and we're sorry to interrupt,” Katara says, pushing to the front and assuming her Taking Charge pose, “but there'll be enough time to talk about politics after tonight. Zuko, you're exhausted. Let me take you back to your room for another healing session.”

Zuko looks alarmed at that, his eyes widening. It only makes the bags under his eyes stand out more. “No, that's okay, I just...”

“You're in pain and you need to rest,” Katara informs him. “You're barely sitting in this chair as it is.”

“She's right, Sifu Hotman,” Aang agrees. “You don't look good at all.”

Zuko pulls a face and mutters, “Thanks, Aang.” Then, he turns his beseeching gaze to Sokka, as though expecting backup from this corner. 

Yeah, no. He won't find any here. “Sorry, buddy, but I'm with them on this one,” Sokka says with a warm smile he hopes doesn't look too worried. “It's been a long day. You've done enough for the night.”

“But I...”

“It's all right, my lord,” says the energetic skinny coal mines diplomat. “We've monopolized you long enough. One should always heed the word of one's physician.”

A few murmurs of assent ripple through the venerable assembly and Katara visibly puffs up, pleased as can be. Sokka makes a mental note to tease her about it later because who's a warrior and not a healer now, huh? 

But only a little. Because Katara has proven over and over that she is very obviously both and Sokka may never admit it out loud but he is so incredibly proud.

Zuko sighs and rolls his eyes at them all, but he does start to get up, and now he's definitely trying hard not to double down. Sokka is on his side in an instant and offers him his arm, which Zuko takes with a brief, grateful smile, and it's a testament to Sokka's self-restraint that he doesn't immediately lean in and kiss it off him. This whole secrecy thing is getting old real quick. 

They start moving, and heads turn to look at them immediately. People fall silent and gaze expectantly at Zuko, who leans on Sokka and stops to clear his throat and address them. 

“It's okay, everyone, the party isn't over,” he says into the growing void of silence. “I'll be leaving, but you all can... go ahead and enjoy the rest of the night. Thank you.”

Scattered applause makes waves through the gathered crowd at his words, like the guests aren't entirely sure if they should clap or cheer or bow to bid the new Fire Lord goodnight, but luckily Aang steps in and asks the band loudly to play something cheerful and drags a giggling Ty Lee to the middle of the dance floor. This distracts everyone enough that Zuko and Sokka can make slow but steady progress to the nearest door unimpeded, which is just as well because Zuko may be trying to act like everything's okay but Sokka is close enough to see the tight stretch of his mouth and the sweat pearling on his white, white forehead.

Bedtime, he thinks. Definitely.

And then he nearly jumps right the fuck out of his skin when Mai materializes on Zuko's other side, silent and dark like an overgrown crow and about as cheerful, casting suspicious eyes around the room. “I'll escort you,” she announces quietly in that smoky voice of hers. 

“Mai, it's all right,” Zuko rasps with some difficulty. “I don't think anyone's going to try anything tonight.”

“And that's why you need me,” she insists. “This proves I'm obviously smarter than you. Both of you, it seems,” she adds as an afterthought, eyes darting to Sokka. 

Sokka bristles. “I can take care of Zuko just fine!”

“I can actually take care of myself, you know,” Zuko mumbles grumpily as they leave the hall and stumble into one of the grand, overwhelmingly rich, brightly lit corridors. Sokka still feels dwarved here and doesn't like the sensation at all, but these two look right at home in their heavy robes that match the décor perfectly, and he supposes it makes sense. Zuko _has_ grown up here, after all, and Mai's probably visited too many times to count.

It's a dark thought, aching and uncomfortable and ugly. Sokka tries to shake it off and thinks, _I'm the one who's allowed to kiss him, now._

And he will. Just as soon as they're alone.

Mai walks them all the way to Zuko's bedroom, which is easily twice as big as Sokka's house back in the South Pole. She watches from the door as Sokka leads Zuko to perch on the bed, and then does a sweep of the bedroom with eyes that seem just as sharp as her knives. 

“I'll make sure you're guarded by someone competent,” she says quietly and Sokka tries to pretend he isn't hurt by the jab. “Get some sleep, you idiot.”

“Thanks, Mai.” Zuko smiles at her, and then winces immediately, pressing his hand to the lightning wound.

“Well, she's a ray of sunshine,” Sokka mutters as he helps Zuko ease down on the bed. “I can see what you saw in her. You two would make the grumpiest babies on the planet.”

“That ship has sailed.” Zuko sighs when he pushes himself up the bed to rest his head on the pillows, and he's either forgotten that the Fire Lord's crown still sits in his hair or he doesn't care. “There will be no grumpy babies.”

“The universe is safe,” Sokka says, moving up to sit on the edge of the bed by Zuko. “Here, let me take that.” He reaches for Zuko's hair and gently pulls the golden flame-shaped crown out of the loosening topknot. Zuko lets out another sigh as his head rolls to the side, and his eyes fall closed, and in the light of the candles and the explosions of color outside he looks so gaunt and sickly Sokka's heart contracts. 

“I forgot it was there,” Zuko whispers in a thick, tired rasp. “I guess I stopped feeling it after a while.”

“That's good, isn't it?” Sokka walks over to the vanity by the wall and puts the crown on the lacquered top. 

“I don't know. I feel like I should... like it should feel heavier. But it doesn't. It's not heavy at all.”

“Of course it isn't. It's just a tiny piece of metal,” Sokka says with a smile, turning to look at Zuko again. “You can handle that easily.”

Zuko breathes out and opens his mouth to say more, possibly argue, and Sokka has a pretty good idea where the conversation is headed. Zuko is scared _shitless_ of being Fire Lord. And Sokka likes Iroh on principle, Iroh's a great old boy, but he can't help it if he judges the guy a little for throwing Zuko straight to the tiger-sharks without so much as by your leave. He has no doubts in his heart that Zuko will do a good job because he's an amazing, strong, beautiful person who never ever gives up, but he'd really rather Zuko got some time off just to heal and...

Be with Sokka. Yeah. He can't deny he was hoping for some time, even a measly week, to laze around Ember Island without having to look out for assassins – or worse, politicians – jumping them from every darker corner. They could make trips to the town and have ice cream. They could lie in the hammocks and read. They could spar in the shadows of palm trees and race in the ocean and only worry about what to eat from day to day because as he understands it neither of them is any good in the kitchen. They could spend long, long nights on the beach just talking, catching up on all the little and bigger things they still don't know about one another, and steal as much kisses as they like and hold hands and sleep in the same bed without hiding from anyone or anything. 

It's a lovely daydream. Apparently, though, it's not just the wicked that never get any rest.

Case in point: Zuko can't even find the words to articulate what's bothering him before someone knocks at the door and Katara's voice calls out, “You ready for the session, Zuko?”

“I don't need it,” Zuko tries, but Sokka's little sister is having none of his bullshit – the doors bang open and in she strides in all her formiddable glory, clutching the waterskin tight to her chest like a war mace. 

“Like hell you don't. Robes, off,” she commands.

And Zuko, because he's a suicidal bastard, looks like he wants to argue some more, but then whatever he was going to say is rendered null and void by the groan that escapes him when he tries to sit up. After that, he sighs and grudgingly submits to Sokka and Katara, who carefully unpeel him from the absurd layers of incredibly fine robes until he sits there in the pants he wore underneath and the bandages hugging his chest. Sokka is ready to sit back and let Katara unwrap those, but she proves that even now she can still surprise him because it is she who sits back and looks up at Sokka expectantly. 

“I think you should take care of it,” she says with a faint smile. “Isn't that right, Zuko?”

“Uh, sure,” Zuko mumbles, and looks just as puzzled, or possibly alarmed, as Sokka feels. 

Katara looks to him, then back to Sokka, and sighs quietly, her face clearing and settling into an expression that Sokka knows heralds some serious heart-to-heart. 

Uh oh.

“Look, we know, okay?” she says, her smile growing into something calm and gentle. “About you two. We've known for a while now. And it's fine. Actually, you should have seen us trying to convince Aang not to make you two flower crowns right on the spot so you could tell us in your own time. Which, honestly, I'm a little insulted you haven't done, but I realize it's probably none of my business.” 

“Katara – ” Zuko tries, and looks a little panicked, but Katara only shakes her head at him.

“You saved my life,” she says warmly. “You jumped in front of lightning to save me and you think I wouldn't let you date my brother?”

It's a valid point. Probably. Sokka hasn't really thought of it like that before, and he suspects Zuko hasn't either. And it's not like they wanted to keep this thing between them secret because they were afraid how the others would react, exactly, it was just...

Private. And their own. And there was this general... feeling... that talking about it openly would also mean they'd have to talk about the Boiling Rock, and what happened there, and that – it was never even an option. 

But now they all know, _officially_ , and Sokka wants to slap his own face because of course they do. Toph is on the team and that...

He needs a moment.

He tries not to look at Katara when he unwraps the bandgaes from around Zuko's chest, and if the heat pressing into his face is any indication at all, Zuko is feeling pretty damn embarrassed himself. And they thought they were being so discreet. Ha.

They're both losers. 

But that means that when Zuko lies back and lets Katara do her healing water mojo on the lightning scar – and Sokka still can't look at it without feeling sick to his stomach with fear, for both of them – Sokka feels he can maybe reach out, and touch Zuko's hand, and hold it in his own. Katara doesn't say anything and stays focused on the healing, but Zuko turns his head to Sokka and gives him a smile, and all at once air is rushing out through Sokka's mouth and taking with it a weight he hadn't even been aware of carrying. 

He's still worried about the future, but now his family knows and is fine with it and he can definitely work with that.

It only takes Katara a few minutes this time, and even less than that to put fresh bandages in place. She tells Zuko to rest and sleep as she bends the water back into the waterskin, and then turns to Sokka, appoints him the resident bedrest-enforcer and even manages to do that with a straight face. Then she retreats, her cheeks slightly red, leaving them with a last smile that's just a little on the awkward side and a silence that is _definitely a lot_ on the awkward side.

“Well,” Zuko says quietly, “I never expected I'd hear your sister order you to keep me in bed.”

And, of course, Sokka is blushing. He is blushing _galore_ , so much that it feels the fireworks erupt not just outside but right there on his damn face. He tries to laugh it off and even manages it somewhat, and mumbles, “Yeah, that's a first,” and fiddles with the ridiculously soft fabric of Zuko's silk quilt because what the fuck else is he supposed to do with himself now? 

Zuko answers this question for him, in a way. His pale fingers reach out and brush against his own, softly, like they're reprimanding him for letting go of his hand in the first place. Sokka breathes out and smiles apologetically at Zuko before grasping his strong, warm hand once more. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, admiring the play of light and shadow across Zuko's tired face. “It was just... unexpected. It's a bit weird to realize Toph could probably tell whenever we sneaked out for a kiss, you know?”

Zuko chuckles quietly and closes his eyes. “Yeah, that was stupid of us,” he admits. “But I guess that's good. I think I like it better this way.”

“Yeah.” Sokka squeezes Zuko's hand. “Me too.”

“Sokka?”

“Yeah?”

“Come here.”

Zuko doesn't need to add, _if you want to_. Not at this point. Sokka wants to, and Zuko can probably read him well enough to see that, and the thrill of it sends Sokka's stomach into a wonderful flutter as he pulls his boots off and worms himself into Zuko's waiting, open arms.

“It's been a long day,” Zuko whispers, nose buried in Sokka's hair. 

“I know,” Sokka agrees, snaking his arms around Zuko's waist and pressing himself close. He still remembers to be mindful of the bandages, but the minute he feels Zuko's arms closing around him in a blissfully warm cocoon, it's like the tension of the past – well, days, if he's honest – steams right off. Sokka sighs and lets his mind drift, and presses a soft kiss to Zuko's shoulder because, well, it's right there, and he's ached with the longing to kiss Zuko all over basically since he saw him all done up and so damn dashing in official Fire Lord gear.

“You looked handsome as fuck,” he tells Zuko, closing his eyes and breathing in the smell of tea and sweat and just a tinge of jasmine. 

“You think so?” Zuko asks, and though his voice thickens with fatigue, a note of amusement manages to warm it nonetheless. 

“Mmmm,” Sokka asserts, “totally. I thought I'd have to make out with you in public or something to show all those people you're taken.”

“I'd like that.”

“Yeah, I bet you would.” Sokka kisses Zuko's shoulder again and snuggles up even closer. “Jerkbender.”

Zuko's hand, the one Sokka is not currently cutting blood circulation to, slowly slides up from his hip to his armpit and then back again. And up. And down. And up again, adding a little circle to pass along Sokka's back as it goes, wrinkling fabric and leaving a delightful trail of firebender warmth Sokka already knows he's addicted to. 

Mmmm, yes. This is nice. This is very nice indeed, and he has to admit he's missed it. There haven't been a whole lot of opportunities to steal little moments together between Aang's disappearance and the coronation, and Sokka knows only too well that the future might grant them even less.

He clings to Zuko and tries not to think about it. They have this moment. They're going to make it count.

“So what's it like being Fire Lord?” he asks quietly, smiling into Zuko's bare skin and keeping his hands firmly on his hips so they don't start to wander.

Zuko lets out a long breath. “I'd rather not talk about it now,” he whispers. “I'm trying not to think about it.”

“Good call,” Sokka agrees. “I'd be offended if you started to think about any of those old farts sucking up to you all day.”

“Don't remind me,” Zuko groans into his hair. “I'm gonna need to meet with all of them tomorrow, and appoint new counselors, and sort out the guards, and...”

“Okay, shhhhhhhhh.” Sokka kisses the stretch of smooth pale skin pressed to his face and risks a small caress around Zuko's hip to distract him. “No more of that. Do I need to start telling horrible jokes at you?”

Zuko snorts. “You're the one who started talking about it in the first place.”

“That's beside the point,” Sokka insists even though technically Zuko is absolutely right. 

“Then what is the point?”

“The point is you're royally annoying and I really really want to kiss you.”

“Well, in that case...” Zuko whispers warmly, loosening his arms and shifting so they can fit their mouths together at long, long last.

Somehow, it still manages to surprise him. How fresh kissing Zuko feels, how new and tender and flighty even though they both get more and more assured after each kiss. But maybe that's not so strange at all, considering they haven't been together for a full month yet, and considering the – circumstances. Because the thing is, Sokka _tries_ not to act like he's afraid of a misstep – he remembers the conversation in Zuko's cell all too vividly and understands Zuko's need to not be treated like a delicate broken thing – but he's also trying to be careful and respectful and lets Zuko lead them into whatever he's ready for, which... Well, kissing is nice, kissing is _great_ in fact and Sokka can't get enough of it, but whenever it felt like it could turn into something more – like that night they stayed on the beach on Ember Island and lay down on the sand with the stars glittering above them and the sea singing them a lullaby – Zuko would eventually pull back and shut himself out and look so guilty and miserable, and naturally Sokka never pressed him for anything more and in the end there hasn't _been_ anything more. 

So yeah, each kiss feels wonderful, but also a gamble. And maybe that's why it feels so new, even now. Because it's a gift Zuko wants and decides to give each and every single time, and Sokka knows he will never, ever take this gift for granted as long as he lives. 

This kiss is much the same. Sokka's heart leaps and skips about excitedly when he feels Zuko's lips warming his own, gently and slowly like they've got all the time in the world to do this, and smiles into Zuko's mouth when he feels a hot, calloused hand guiding his own off the strong hip and up the smooth, muscled side. It's a permission to touch and Sokka takes it gladly, letting his hand explore as much as it wants, rasping over coarse bandages and smooth, smooth skin. Still kissing him, Zuko starts moving to accommodate him – and it's small, gentle moves that nevertheless catch the breath right out of Sokka's throat. 

He opens his eyes and sees that Zuko's are open too, bright and hazy and watching him from under thick black lashes. Zuko smiles when he catches Sokka looking, and breaks the kiss for a moment to breathe out and trace long fingers along Sokka's cheek. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. 

Sokka smiles and moves his wandering hand to slide up and down Zuko's bare bicep. “Hey.”

“I've been thinking.”

“Yeah?” 

“Would you like to... do something else?”

Oh. Sokka swallows loudly, lips and skin alike suddenly flaring up from Zuko's touch, and he's not sure he's right about what's being offered so he has to _make_ sure because damn him to Koh's lair if he gets it wrong and somehow screw things up.

“Do you mean...” he asks quietly, unable to stop worry from pinching his face. 

Zuko intercepts his hesitation and nods, his features smoothening out into something earnest, open and vulnerable. “Yeah,” he whispers with bright, bright eyes, “that's exactly what I mean.”

“We don't have to,” Sokka assures him. “You don't have to do anything you don't –”

“Thank you,” Zuko breathes like it's something he should be thanking Sokka for, and it draws a cold blade along Sokka's stomach. “I know. But... but I want to. I've wanted to for a while, and I think I really am ready, this time.”

Well, shit. Sokka's been doing so well ignoring the arousal that swarmed him every single time their lips touched before, and he thought he could do the same now, too, but now that's absolutely out of the question. The meaning behind Zuko's honey-thick words shoot past his mental filters and fills his cock full of blood in a blink, and Sokka's voice comes out weak when he stammers, “You sure?”

“Yes.” Zuko moves closer to breathe the word into Sokka's lips and warm them up with a kiss, and he lingers to bite lightly on Sokka's lower lip and drag it a little before he pulls away again. “I want to, if you do too.”

Ohhhhhh, fuck. Oh no, no, no, Sokka is so doomed, and that doom wrecks him with shudders all over, and propels him to move so he pushes Zuko gently back and hovers over him so he can return the kiss with everything he is worth. “You sneaky bastard,” he whispers between long, deep, breathless kisses, “you have no idea.”

Zuko hums into his mouth, and pulls Sokka close on top of him which results in a moment of awkward maneuvering so Sokka doesn't rest his weight on Zuko's injury; but they make it work, and Sokka leans on his trembling elbows to kiss and kiss and kiss him with all he has. Soon their mouths are wet and slippery but none of them care, because Zuko is gasping quietly and Sokka is drunk with love for him. 

Even then, he keeps his hips from pressing into Zuko's, certain that he will come right in his pants the moment his cock even brushes any part of Zuko, he's so hard and wants this so much. He has to pull away from the kiss and bite down on his bottom lip when Zuko's hands rake through his hair and tug at the band of his ponytail, shaking it loose, and he takes a moment to sit back and do the same to Zuko's topknot. Zuko tries to sit up then, too, and manages to hoist himself into a half-seated position against the pillows, reaching for Sokka's shirt – and, trembling, Sokka helps him undo the sash and pull the top down his shoulders so he can shake it off and sit there just as shirtless as Zuko.

It's not the first time. Zuko's seen him bathe, swim and train like that, and they've kissed in this state of undress before, too. That doesn't mean he's not still a little self-conscious about his skinnier body, but he's getting better at overcoming that sting of awkwardness and it's with a smile he hopes looks wolfish that he moves forward and captures Zuko's mouth for another kiss. 

“What do you have in mind?” he asks the next time they break away, smiling when Zuko reaches up to push hair out of Sokka's face. “It's your call.”

Zuko doesn't reply immediately, even though his eyes visibly soften. He seems to consider, playing with Sokka's hair almost absent-mindedly, and Sokka gives him all the time he needs even though his cock feels like it might literally explode with anticipation if it doesn't get any attention soon. It's not about him. He can wait a little longer.

“I'd like to...” Zuko starts, and his eyes dart a little to the side while his healthy cheek blooms in red. “I'd like to use my mouth. You know... on you.”

“Right,” Sokka stammers, “right.” Or at least that's what he thinks comes out of his mouth. The way his mind disintegrates into a puddle of need and excitement and incoherence, it could just as well be _pineapple juice_ for all he knows.

Spirits. Spirits.

“Would you like that?” Zuko asks quietly, looking unsure. “I mean, I know you haven't really done anything yet and I wouldn't – ”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sokka lets out in a rush, weakly, heart slamming in his neck. “Yes, I'd like that. I'd like that very much.”

Zuko's face lights up in a flitting smile and Sokka can't help himself – he leans in to taste it with his own mouth. This kiss is even deeper than the last one, and Zuko slides down on the pillows during it, pulling Sokka down with him so that they both end up lying on their sides, hands grasping and sliding over heated skin.

Then, Zuko draws away to kiss down Sokka's face and neck, and then, with a last smile, he slides down Sokka's body. It takes him a while, mostly because he insists on taking little stops to pepper with kisses first Sokka's chest and then lower stomach, and it's hands down the most erotic thing Sokka's ever experienced in his short life to date. By the time he feels Zuko's hand pressing to his cock through the cotton of his pants, like a question, _is this okay_ , he's this close to sobbing and can only nod as he grits his teeth and presses his face into the pillow. 

It's very okay. It's very, very, very okay, only at this rate Sokka is sure he won't be setting any endurance records anytime soon because _Spirits_.

And then he gets even more reasons to pray because Zuko's fingers start unlacing his pants, and the knowledge of what's coming, and the mental images that flit through his brain faster than he can say _meat and sarcasm_ , are very nearly enough to send him over the edge. He bites down on the nearest silk red pillow he can find and probably ruins it with his spit, and maybe in a different frame of mind he'd give a damn about that but not when Zuko hooks his fingers across his waistband and slowly pulls them down his legs, and then does the same to Sokka's loincloth. 

_Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck, it's really totally happening for real and he can't, he can't –_

A tongue gives the head of his cock a long, curious lick. Sokka sucks in a violent breath and concentrates really, really hard on not. Coming. Yet.

The tongue withdraws. A voice asks, “Are you okay?”

Sokka nods once again into the pillow and manages a small, squeaky “Yeah,” and then clears his throat without opening his eyes. “You?” he manages in something a bit closer in resemblance to his normal voice register.

“Yeah,” Zuko whispers in a voice that is entirely too husky and sensual for Sokka's good.

And then his mouth closes around Sokka's cock. And all Sokka can do is muffle the embarrassingly loud gasp in the pillow, which must be entirely past salvation at this point because _holy shit this feels so good_.

It's not even the entire shaft at this point – Zuko's lips move only slightly past the head. But it's enough. Already Sokka's hands fly to twist in Zuko's hair entirely against his will, and he has to breathe out quickly through his mouth just to keep his hips from bucking even though Zuko's hands rest on them and squeeze a little, but it's too much, he wants this too much and he knows with that cold, terrible, humiliating certainty that he just _won't last_. 

“Zuko,” he tries, because the least he can do is warn his boyfriend that he's a weak-ass wimp that's just a breath away from giving him a facial and _No Sokka you must NOT imagine that do NOT under any circumstances imagine Zuko with his face dripping your –_

Zuko makes a soothing, shushing noise. Which is nice. He does it with his mouth still around Sokka's cock, though, which is entirely not nice, which is actually exceedingly fucking cruel on Zuko's part because Sokka can feel the rumbling vibrations through his whole body and he's going to die here, he just knows he is. 

And then Zuko proves that he is, in fact, still evil. Because he moves and grabs the root of Sokka's cock with one hand and holds it firm, and then he opens up his mouth to take in as much as he can. And that's pretty much it, and Sokka can feel it, and he forces himself to open his eyes because he just has to see this with his own eyes before it's over. Three times Zuko's mouth slides up and down his shaft, tongue wetly pressing against the head – only three times before Sokka unglues himself from the pillow and looks down to take in the sight of prince – no, Fire Lord Zuko, his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes closed and his mouth full of Sokka's cock. And the moment he does, the moment he sees it, he is absolutely, helplessly done.

Zuko doesn't seem to mind. Somehow he manages to pull away just in time for Sokka's come to hit his face instead of the back of his throat, and he smiles through it as he gently massages Sokka's cock while the aftershocks wreck him. It's – Sokka can't even describe what it is. He doesn't have the words. Or any words at all, not for a blinding, white-hot moment when he coasts weightlessly on drawn-out waves of pleasure, and his heart races harder than it ever has in battle, and all he can think is, _I love you, I love you, I love you._

It takes him a while to open his eyes. When he finally does, it's to the sight of Zuko once again leaning against the pillows by his head and wiping the last of Sokka's come off his face on his hand with a smile that Sokka knows will keep him warm on long, cold nights. Heat spills in his gut; Sokka lets it pull him under because he knows there's no use fighting it. He's already too far gone. 

“Are you all right?” he asks, breath still not quite in order. 

Zuko looks at him and touches his cheek like it's the most natural thing in the world. And it's beginning to be.

“I am,” he says in a voice that sounds even hoarser than before. “You?”

Sokka takes his hand in both of his and presses it to his mouth. “C'mere,” he orders, and disregards Zuko's half-hearted protests that "no, you really don't want to taste my mouth now, it's – ” and kisses him long, nice and slow. The taste _is_ weird, bitter and vaguely unpleasant, but Zuko's own mouth burns underneath it and Sokka finds he really doesn't mind. 

It still sends him a bit off-balance to realize that Zuko's done this before, to someone else, that he's learned this and probably many other things with people who were not Sokka. But he tries not to nurse any jealousy over it because, well, what's the point? They didn't know each other back then like they do now. Zuko had a life before Sokka, just like Sokka had his before Zuko. That's just the way things are, and if his past experiences are giving Zuko confidence to move on and find something good about physical intimacy after what happened in the Boiling Rock, well, Sokka can only be grateful for that. He's on the receiving end now, after all, and he knows now more than ever that Zuko will be okay.

He pulls him close and draws in a sharp breath when he feels Zuko's hard cock pressing against his thigh. It thrills him to the quick, the realization that he's managed to excite Zuko to this point, and he whispers a heated “May I?” to Zuko's ear while pushing his thigh even closer. 

Zuko nods. He clings to Sokka and leaves a sloppy kiss on his collarbone. He allows Sokka to push him on his back and leave long, deep kisses along his arching neck, and gasps and sighs and moans softly as Sokka pushes a trembling hand past the waistband of Zuko's pants to seek out the sleek, leaking hardness throbbing there eager for his touch. And if anything, this is even _better_ – giving back, trying, perhaps ineptly, to inspire pleasure in Zuko, who's so beautifully receptive and whose face looks incredible naked and breathless in dying candlelight, and whose sounds already stir Sokka's cock into interest all over again. He lasts longer than Sokka, but not by much, and soon Sokka is treated to the astonishing feeling of _I did that_ when this amazing person lets out a loud, almost surprised gasp and heaves desperate panting breaths, staining Sokka's hand.

It's incredible. And beautiful. And fantastic. And Sokka aches with how much he loves him.

No longer able to hold back, he leans down and kisses Zuko's pleasure-stricken face – his nose, his forehead, his temple, his cheek, his chin, his closed eyelid, anything he can reach save for the scar. _You're so brave_ , he wants to say, but doesn't. _So brave._

Maybe Zuko can hear it, or feel it through the kisses, though, because he hums quietly as his pleasure recedes and his breath begins to settle. “That was good,” he whispers without opening his eyes. “Thanks.”

“You don't have to thank me for that, you idiot,” Sokka says fondly. “And anyway, I should be the one thanking you.”

“Mmmmmm,” Zuko responds vaguely, moving slightly so Sokka can lie down across his chest, throwing a protective arm around it just as the last candle finally breathes its last.

“We did it,” Sokka says quietly after a few long, peaceful heartbeats, and his hand rests on Zuko's bandaged stomach just over the spot where he knows the new scar is. 

“Yeah,” Zuko agrees, voice already slick with sleep. “We did.”

Neither of them means the sex bit. 

Or maybe just a tiny little bit, because it's still a giant step for them and they'd be stupid to pretend it isn't.

But yeah. They made it. And the thing about fire, Sokka thinks as he lets exhaustion finally send him over that fine blurry edge between sleep and consciousness, is that once it's lit well and good, it's really damn hard to put it out.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, wow, I only now realized I totally forgot that Sokka was supposed to have a broken leg in those scenes. I am a bad, bad fan, this is so embarrassing. Let's maybe agree that in this version Katara's healing worked super well and super fast? Sorry ;A;


End file.
